Category: Comedy

Female Privilege is Real and Must Be Stopped

A Comedy Satire by Epicdelusion.

Women in our society do not see their privilege. Women have all the power and they do not intend to share any of it. They continue onward in their supremacy almost unchallenged. It is our duty to END Female Privilege! For those of you who say that there is no female privilege, your deluded bubble is about to be burst.

Hello, Woman. Let me explain to you how you are so privileged in our society. The oppressors rarely see that they are oppressors. Evil always thinks it is doing good. Hopefully you’re one of the few who can see just how important it is to end female privilege.

You can freely walk down the street without being seen as a criminal. People do not cross the street to avoid you because they think you’re about to attack them. You are welcome to initiate conversation with passerby without being perceived as a sexual predator or a creepy pervert.

You are able to ask for assistance from both men and women without being feared for having ulterior motives. You are able to talk to or help lost children without arousing the contempt and suspicion of the neighborhood and local police.

You are able to leave your house late at night without being the subject of fearful residents wanting to protect their children and property. You are able to walk at night without instilling fear and having the cops called on you to question your motives.

You can look at a man or a woman at the gym without being considered a sexual deviant. If there is an emergency, you can use the men’s bathroom without being considered a pervert. You can take your young children into any restroom you want and not be targeted as a child molester.

You can flirt with any man that you want or ask him out on a date without it being considered harassment or sexual assault. You are free to have sex while drunk without your male partners regret costing you jail time or loss of tuition/career.

You have the sovereignty to laugh at men for being sexually harassed without fear of societal reprisal or social backlash. You are free to presume a man always wants sex from you. You are free to presume that you cannot commit sexual assault.

Society comforts you if you are abused while it castigates and mocks your victims if you abuse. You also have the power to ruin relationships, jobs, careers, reputations, and even cost men their freedom, safety and lives by falsely accusing them of rape.

You have the luxury to be seen as a role model for being money driven and successful. You have the luxury to be seen on television as an articulate, sensible, intelligent individual rather than a fat, moronic,clumsy slob. You are celebrated for ridiculing men, mentally tormenting them, and body shaming them without consequence.

You have the luxury of always being the first to be rescued in an emergency situation after children. You can leave a man dying in the street to save yourself and not be seen as an incongruous monster. You are allowed to show weakness, mistake, folly, and fear without being considered less of a woman. You are allowed to cry and show emotion without being considered less of a woman.

You can be a humanitarian or a vegetarian without being considered weak and pitiful. You have the fortune of being presumed innocent in every case where the police may be involved, even if you are the attacker. You always have society’s sympathy on your side no matter how wrong you are.

It is wrong for a man to hit you even if you hit him first, it is wrong if a cop slams you to the ground after you commit a crime, and no one is allowed to curse at you or raise their voice to you in anger.

You are even encouraged by society to cry your way out of trouble such as a speeding ticket or traffic violation.

Police, Employers and Judges all show you considerable mercy and often exemption from crime. You are given shorter sentences and softer punishments for the rare occurrence of a conviction. You also are treated much better in correctional facilities to which you seldom populate.

You have the ability to start a business or follow a career path without risking your life from workplace injuries and death. The government will even give you special tax breaks simply for being a woman starting her own business. You are not expected to explain gaps in employment. You are more likely to be hired with less experience. You are more likely to be given easier assignments and less hours for the same pay.

You are less likely to be unemployed or homeless. You are provided with safer and cleaner working facilities, bathrooms, offices, and healthcare facilities. You are 93% less likely to be injured at work, 97% less likely to be killed in war, 80% less likely to commit suicide, and 76% less likely to be murdered.

You are encouraged emotionally since birth while given extra credit and decreased quotas. You have access to cheaper healthcare, and you are statistically healthier and live longer. Society dedicates its resources to fighting breast cancer while men die of prostate cancer without a note of resistance.

You are more likely to be admitted to ivy league schools, and you have more scholarships available to you. You are given preference in the classroom and are far less likely to drop out of high school and college. You are also less likely to be depressed or suffer from PTSD or mental illness.

You are the presumed primary care giver in the household. You have the freedom to get divorced and keep your children. You are 84% more likely to win custody of your children. You are favored in courtrooms in civil suits. Bias in alimony and child support cases favor you.

It is illegal for a man to force a woman to get an abortion. It is legal for a woman to get an abortion without the consent of a man. It is illegal to circumcise women. It is illegal to draft women into selective service. You have the White House Woman and Girls Council. You are seen as relevant and not obsolete. The list goes on and on.

We must unite and end this oppression!

With the PC crowd constantly whining about privilege, it’s hard to follow where they keep arbitrarily moving the goal posts. The sheer subjectivity of the matter means that anybody anywhere can see privilege and attack it any time that they want, as this satire eloquently reveals.

The reality is that all people live by advantages and disadvantages, and its largely senseless to compete with who has it worse and who has it better because of their gender. In other words, there is really no such thing as racial or gender privilege. Individualism is all that really matters. As soon as society forfeits the ludicrous notion of gender or racial superiority/inferiority, real mental freedom can begin to flourish.

Now that you have seen how easy it is to create the boogeyman of privilege, maybe we can move along and get back to reality. If you are obsessed enough with anything, you can see what you want, because the mind always sees what the mind wants to see.

Tammy, the 800 lb trailer park princess, loves Trump. I mean, she really loves Trump. “He’s the greatest dang president we ever done had!” she remorselessly declared. “He gonna build that wall. He gonna get all them MS 13 gang bangers and them terrorists outta here. You’ll see. He much better than that damn Obama. He watn’t even ‘merican.”

Tammy also loves Walmart. “I do love Walmart though, they roll back them prices, make ya feel good, and they just great. We’s been going there for years and years. Hell, that’s where my husband proposed to me, God love him.”

When Tammy heard that someone was selling ‘Impeach Trump’ T-shirts on Walmart’s online marketplace, she was torn.

“I didn’t know what to do really” she said as she started sobbing a bit. “I felt like it was two dang family members fighting or sumpin’.”

“All my friends they in an uproar” she told us. “they’s talkin’ about boycotting the whole dang store. Now how you gonna boycott a whole dang store?”

With tremendous reluctance Tammy decided that she wasn’t going to be swept up in all of the anti-Walmart hype. The fond memories she had of Walmart could not so easily be superseded by one T-Shirt. “I mean, the T-Shirt is treasonous; saying anything bad about our President is treason, ya know? So I’m hoping they gon’ take it down.”

Tammy felt a bit self-conscious as she got into her scooter cart and began perusing the aisles at the local Walmart. “I felt like, ya know, one of my friends might’ve seen me up in there and been madder than hell at me.” She confessed. “But I don’t know where else to go. I sure as hell aint goin’ to Target. I done boycotted them years ago.”

Sven, Tyler and Buddy are roommates living off campus while attending a small, prestigious liberal arts college.

Buddy is an economics major with a 4.3 GPA, and a bit of a provocateur. Attempting to showcase the inevitable failures of socialism in contrast to free market capitalism, he decided he would use handjobs as an analogy in his dissertation.

Six whiskey shots and a few bong rips into the night, Buddy loudly proclaimed to his roommates (who were partaking in the intoxicating festivities as well)

“Seriously, you dumb asses.” Buddy said as he fought to bring about a level of momentary seriousness, “listen to this.”

“The average first date costs roughly $80 according to Cosmopolitan magazine.”

Sven interrupted. “Dude, why are you reading Cosmo-fucking-politan?”

“Shut the fuck up Sven.” Buddy continued…

“Not to perpetuate misogynistic gender roles here, but the man usually pays this $80. He does so in order to increase his minuscule chances at performing the reproductive act. We typically refer to this act as sexual intercourse. ”

Buddy’s words were slightly slurred and he had a tendency to over articulate during what he called ‘the golden level of intoxication.’ His roommates found his verbose ramblings to be a mild source of entertainment and allowed him to continue uninterrupted.

“Understanding that the possibility of coitus for him is highly unlikely, he’ll begin to negotiate with himself and settle for a ‘first date handjob’. At this point his odds are at 13%.”

“In an effort to increase his odds he attempts to demonstrate clout by tipping the waitress 42.3% of the tab. Unfortunately for him, his date was distracted by a barrage of incoming texts from her concerned girlfriends, and was oblivious to his flashy generosity. He winds up jacking off into a sock after she declines his invitation to come over to watch a movie.”

“Graciously, she agrees to go on another date with him. He finally gets the handjob he was seeking. The total monetary cost to him was $266. 2 dinners, 2 movies, drinks, tips, gasoline for his car, and a half-dozen of roses. A lot of people profited off of his desire to get a limp-wristed handjob. ”

“In the Bronx you can get a decent handjob and a shot of Courvosier, which is included for some reason, for $75. This shows us a few different things. Mainly, that while it’s more economically stimulating to earn a handjob from your date, it’s cheaper to buy one from a prostitute. More importantly, however, it shows us that there’s no such thing as a free handjob. Somebody, somehow, always pays.”

Tyler, at this point, is laughing his ass off and finally gets himself together enough to ask Buddy a question.

“Can’t you just give yourself a handjob? Or maybe be like commies and just get in a big circle jerk?” Tyler asks.

Sven looks at Tyler and sarcastically shrugs and then looks back over at Buddy, awaiting his reply.

Buddy pauses and looks back and forth at both of them and in a frustrated eruption declares :

Sup, name’s Chet. I left my iphone in my Lambo the other day and didn’t feel like walking outside to get it, so I went into my dad’s den to use his computer.

By the way, that’s the V12 Lamborghini Veneno… you remember that neon yellow blur that zipped past you on the interstate while you were putting along in your Honda Civic? Yeah, that was me.

Anyway, I just needed to get on Facebook messenger real quick to let my buddy know it was cool to swing by. Beer thirty, ya know?

So I got on the computer, and my Dad’s Facebook was still up.

I couldn’t help but notice that he made a comment on our Butler’s post… yeah, you heard me correctly, the Butler’s post. I was instantly aghast and thought ‘what the fuck is my dad doing?’

The post was actually something he shared from 7 years ago; a picture of his degree from The International Butler Academy. Yeah, I didn’t know there was a Butler Academy either. I thought this guy was just a homeless dude my dad found at the bus stop and felt sorry for.

My dad wrote: “It’s been a pleasure having you Jeffery, we are truly blessed!”

Seriously Dad? Like, what the fuck? “Blessed?”

I walked out of the room and saw Jeffery talking to one of the maids. I’m not sure why, but his face just filled me with utter disgust. Just knowing that he was proud of his “accomplishment” was enough to make me feel sickened by his presence. How dare he summon the audacity to think he could ever be friends with my family?

So, naturally, I had to fuck with him.

“Say there Jeffery, I’m wondering if you could help me with something?” I humbly implored.

Conjuring a phony smile on his face, he walked over and asked how he could be of assistance.

“Well, Jeffery” I said forthrightly, “I’m a 23-year-old college drop out with no fancy degree… what can I do to stop being such a pathetic loser?”

Fidgeting with his cuff he appeared to become very nervous and cumbersome; a noticeable difference from the snobbish demeanor he proudly showcased moments before.

“Well Sir, if you want to get your degree I would, perhaps, consider talking to your father about going back to school?” he politely suggested.

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Order now and you’ll receive a complimentary copy of our number one best-selling cookbook: ‘How to freakin’ make dinner without burning it’.

Disclaimer: This is intended to be satire, do not actually lock your wife in a cage you sick bastard. 😉

Easter Sunday is an important religious holiday for Christians as it marks the resurrection of Jesus Christ, but don’t tell that to the Easter bunny.

The Easter bunny, like our friend Santa Claus, exploits a revered holy celebration as merely a method to lure small children with the promise of gifts or candy. The Easter bunny, unlike Santa, has a more devious motivation.

Some Easter bunnies have mastered the art of deception. They’ve fashioned themselves to appear innocent and cuddly, but I assure you they are anything but. They wait for the right moment and then they strike without warning.

This poor, traumatized little girl was rescued moments before this rapacious Easter bunny would have devoured his victim. Small children are a delicacy to Easter bunnies.

This little fella wasn’t so lucky. The Easter bunny’s grasp was just too powerful and the parents were left to helplessly watch the savage feeding.

Here is a rare, vintage photo of an Easter bunny contemplating his decision to which one of the twins he will consume first. It looks like he has his eye on the one on his left (the slightly meatier twin), no?

This Easter bunny appears to be saying “ah, shucks!” as one of his potential victims becomes aware of the danger she faces and flees in absolute horror.

Pictured here is an Easter bunny who has already filled up on small children but cannot resist to at least take a little nibble.

These poor children didn’t even stand a chance against the Easter bunny’s insatiable appetite.

This terrifying image shows how the Easter bunny will chew right through parkas in order to consume a victim who is attempting escape.

Parents, do not be fooled by pastel ornamentation and friendly guises. The Easter bunny, shown above in his natural form, is a horrid beast who feeds once a year and has his eyes fixed on your little ones.

Meghan Trainor is a pop sensation with a number of hit songs. One of her hit songs entitled ‘Dear Future Husband‘ describes a list of prerequisites for being her future husband.

To be fair, Meghan Trainor doesn’t have a bad voice and as far as pop music goes, she’s actually not the worst out there. The lyrics in her ‘Future Husband’ song, however, are all I needed to hear to know that I would never propose marriage to her.

Let’s break it down. Here’s verse 1:

“Take me on a dateI deserve it, babeAnd don’t forget the flowers every anniversary‘Cause if you’ll treat me rightI’ll be the perfect wifeBuying groceriesBuy-buying what you need”

I think I could remember some flowers and to take her on a date once in a great while in exchange for her buying groceries and being a perfect wife. At this point, it doesn’t seem like it would be too horrible to be married to her. Let’s continue:

“You got that 9 to 5But, baby, so do ISo don’t be thinking I’ll be home and baking apple piesI never learned to cookBut I can write a hook”

Alright, you’re losing me here Meghan. I’m a man that understands the importance and absolute necessity of fresh baked goods in order to keep a happy relationship going. I understand it’s the modern age and women aren’t wearing high heels and cooking all day (what a shame) but come on, would it kill you to bake an apple pie once in a while?

Wait, what? I’m thinking if she put this line in the song, then perhaps her acting crazy is something that happens rather frequently. Of course, that’s pretty much all women. (sorry gals, you know it’s true.) I suppose the best way to handle a crazy person is to treat them with extra special care and attention then lie to them and tell them that everything is okay until the syringe full of thorazine is ready.

“Dear future husband,Here’s a few things you’ll need to know if you wanna beMy one and only all my lifeDear future husband,If you wanna get that special lovin’Tell me I’m beautiful each and every night”

So all it takes to get “special lovin'” from Meghan Trainor is to tell her she’s beautiful every night? I wonder if such an agreement can be arranged for one night? Because that’s about the most time that I would want to spend with her.

“After every fightJust apologizeAnd maybe then I’ll let you try and rock my body right (right)Even if I was wrong[Laugh] You know I’m never wrongWhy disagree?Why, why disagree?”

I’m sure the first piece of advice that a marriage counselor would offer to a struggling couple would be for the husband to just admit he was wrong and apologize, no matter what. Never mind healthy, adult discussion and actually working on issues and compromising. Just put that tail between your legs boy and sit your ass in the corner with some sad “I’m sorry” puppy dog eyes and wait until she’s ready to scratch behind your ears.

“I’ll be sleeping on the left side of the bed (hey)Open doors for me and you might get some kissesDon’t have a dirty mindJust be a classy guyBuy me a ringBuy-buy me a ring (babe)”

Ok, be classy, open up doors for you, buy you a ring… this all sounds pretty manageable, except you’re forgetting one thing; that contradicts your feministic stance of not cooking pies and working 9 to 5. You can’t have your cake and eat it too, right? I guess you can if you’re Meghan Trainor.

I’m sure there are plenty of ball-less men out there who wouldn’t mind being Meghan Trainor’s lap dog. As a man who has a pair of testicles, however, as well as some god damn dignity for myself, I don’t see myself ever kneeling down in front of her.

Below I’ve posted the song. It’s okay to go ahead and click play and watch the video and give it a listen… and if you like the song, don’t worry, we wont tell anyone. 😉

There’s nothing worse than somebody who is an asshole who tries to defend him or herself.

Everyone will still recognize the asshole that you initially are, but they will also add the extra assholism of you trying to convince people you aren’t one. If you’re an asshole, there’s no such thing as convincing people you aren’t one, no matter what you do.

Some sage advice would be to just embrace the fact that you’re an asshole. Don’t apologize for it and never try to instill a PR initiative to hide it.

Once you’ve been established as an asshole, you’ll remain an asshole forever.

If you’re one of those assholes who does have a good side to you, then be assured, the asshole side of you will be the only one people will remember.

You could do charity work, save dolphins, help underprivileged youth, assist old ladies when they’re walking across the street; all to create the image that you’re not an asshole…

Trust me, you’re wasting your time. Sure, it’s good to help old ladies cross the street, but that wont make people think you’re any less of an asshole.

In fact, it’s likely that they’ll think you’re more of an asshole for using old ladies to try to create a better image for yourself. They’ll hate you more than a motorist hates a cyclist.

Nah, just be the asshole you have grown to be. Remember all the bullshit you had to deal with that made you this way and just be comfortable with being the asshole that you are.

You probably wont make any new friends, but if you have any friends left, at least you’ll know they are a loyal group of suckers. 😉

Now just wait a damn minute! Did this guy just say that everyone hates the photos that I post up of my precious little baby? Yes, that is correct. Everyone hates the photos that you post of your baby.

They didn’t hate it the first time that you posted up the pictures of your new bundle of joy. In fact, I would assume that if these people you’re sharing your life with online are actually your friends, then they probably liked the first few photos you posted.

The initial photos you posted, welcoming your child into the world, was likely met with resplendence, joy and happiness. As well as it should. Children are our future. You should be proud. There’s nothing wrong with posting pictures like that…

Until about the 50th post that looks only slightly different than all the other photos you posted of your baby.

Each one of the photos you post may be unique and especially magnificent to you, but it’s the same picture to everyone else.

We get it. You have a baby. That’s fantastic. Seriously, we wish you and your child and your family all the best. The plain and somewhat heart-breaking truth you must accept, however, is that nobody wants to see that many pictures of your kid.

And I know there’s going to be some people that will say “oh no, no, I LOVE to see my friend’s pictures of her baby. She can post however many she wants and I l will love every single one of them and you should shut the hell up!”

You’re only lying to yourself. It’s just as annoying to you as it is to everyone else but you don’t have the courage or honesty to admit it.

You know damn well that the last time you clicked ‘like’ on one of your friend’s baby pictures that she posts every day that you were thinking in the back of your mind ‘okay, this is the last time I like one of her god damn baby posts’.

There, now doesn’t it feel better to tell the truth? Doesn’t it feel good to just admit that you, like everyone else, hate the relentless baby photos that you see on Facebook? Of course it does. 😉

One day, however, when I came home from working at the gas station, I noticed something rather unusual. My computer was on… and someone had left an Infowars page up.

Brushing weird shit off was a specialty of mine, and this occasion would be no different. I closed the computer down, shrugged, drank a beer and went to sleep.

A few days later I stopped at the pet store and grabbed some crickets and grasshoppers for Stew. I felt like our friendship was starting to wane a bit so I wanted to get him something nice, just to show him that I care, ya know?

I couldn’t help noticing that there was an AK 47 laying on the coffee table when I walked through the door.

“Stew” I asked nervously, “is this yours?”

“Nah man, not mine” Stew replied nonchalantly as he returned his attention to a worn out scroll he was reading.

“What’re you reading?” I inquired cautiously.

Stew became quickly agitated, slammed down the paper and before storming off exclaimed “It’s called the fucking Constitution, maybe you should read it sometime asshole!”

I was immediately heartbroken. I laid the crickets and grasshoppers next to his terrarium and sat on the floor.

My weak sobbing was interrupted when I noticed a soft glow from the other room. My computer was on again. It was that damn Infowars and that bad influence Alex Jones who was undoubtedly corrupting my best friend! (who happens to be a frog but I’m okay with that.)

Stew and I eventually made up, and he informed me that the rifle was to protect us both from an invasion of lizard people who were already secretly controlling every aspect of our lives and would ultimately seek to destroy us.

The following day when I came home Stew had some company; another male frog. They were snuggling and watching ‘Zeitgeist: the Movie’ on Netflix.

“Stew, what the hell man?” I thoughtlessly blurted out.

Stew was utterly disgusted by the shock in my voice and declared that I was a homophobic monster.

“I’m cool with it, Stew” I reassured him. “I was just taken by surprise because you’re always looking at dirty magazines with female frogs.”

“First of all” Stew informed me, “you know nothing of the sexuality of frogs nor the chemtrails that are being emitted into the ionosphere via aircraft by communists in an effort to brainwash you into thinking you’re something that you are not.”

“This is all from that Alex Jones guy, isn’t it?” I said with obvious concern.

“Alex Jones is my hero” Stew confessed. “His undeniable truth speaking was an epiphany to me. He showed me who I really am. He showed me that all we have been taught is a lie to keep us oppressed by the invisible government.”

I raised my eyebrow and spoke softly… “but Alex Jones is a nut case.”

Stew’s eyes widened, viciously offended he grabbed his AK 47 and pointed it at me.

“I think it’s time for you to leave you Illuminati whore.”

Those were the last words Stew ever spoke to me.

Sometimes, late at night, as I lay curled up on the sofa at my mother’s house, I wonder how in the hell I allowed my gay pet frog to kick me out of my apartment. Life is hard, but I’m learning.